


The White Wabbit

by LifeLover



Category: British Actor RPF, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bottom James, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Top Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeLover/pseuds/LifeLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Epic Porn Universe fic for luninosity and Easter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Wabbit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> Oh, god. Okay - 1) I'm not sure if I got the tone of dom/sub right, so feel free to correct me. 2) the white wabbit is a real vibrator. I just happened to see it in a lesbian magazine, but hey! why not have mcfassy fun? 3) I know, I wimped out on the sex scene. I just can't write sex! *cowers sheepishly* This is gifted as a birthday fic to luninosity.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

“Michael – are those what I think they are?” James asked quietly, staring at the objects lying innocently on the bed. _Objects such as those_ , James mused inwardly, _ought not to be able to do anything innocently_. The objects stared back placidly at him.

 

“Probably,” Michael agreed sounding cheerful and propriety, with just a hint of smugness winding its way underneath. “It is around Easter after all. And can you blame me James? Wanting to see you wrapped up in these restraints, filled and covered with my things that I’ve bought for you. All mine. In every way.”

 

James’ breath hitched as the words entered his ears and transformed into a shockwave of arousal, spiraling through his spine to pool low in his belly. “Yes, sir.” He murmured instantly, hating the sudden shakiness he felt, the desperation evident in his voice. “Yours, sir.”

 

His eyes fixed on his slightly trembling hands in his lap, he couldn’t see Michael’s expression, but he heard as there were footsteps and then Michael’s hand, warm and large came to rest on his cheek. James closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly into the warmth offered. That rich Irish voice came to him. “James? James, hey, look at me, okay? C’mon, meet my eyes, all right, tell me what’s going through that mind of yours…”

 

He opened his eyes hesitantly, and looked up to meet Michael’s worried gaze, those spring lake eyes paler now, concerned. “That was pretty fast, James. You really need it, huh?” The unspoken command of _talk to me_ was evident, and James leaned forward to rest his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, breathing in Irish spring and golden-malt warmth and the unmistakable scent of Michael permeating everything. He started to speak slowly, very aware of the heavy weight of Michael’s hand resting on his head, a shield protecting him from anything.

 

“I …. need it, Sir. Need you. It’s not ….. not really specific, just … just a sense of _him_ , and imbalance and …” James chuckled bitterly, but when he felt the hand press down on his temple, he stopped. They’d had this conversation, though it was still hard to open up like this. “I feel … vulnerable, Sir.” He finished helplessly, shivering slightly. “Insecure. I need to be yours. Completely. Please, Sir.”

 

He felt Michael’s harsh sigh, a soft breath that brushed over his head and then Michael spoke up. “Shhh, it’s alright James. That was good work. You told me what you needed, you didn’t hide.” His voice changed then, from the rolling green hills and sunshine to his Sir’s voice. The one that was velvet sin – smelling of chocolate, tasting like rich bourbon, wrapped in black leather and danger. “I think you should get undressed, James. Get completely naked and wait on the bed for me. Now.”

 

James whimpered inadvertently as the arousal that had dissipated in the wake of the comforting came back abruptly, his cock suddenly pressing against his jeans. Silently (he hadn’t been told he could talk) he undressed, putting his clothes on the nearby chair. He lay down on the bed grateful the items Michael had bought were at the end and he didn’t need to worry about moving them. Michael stalked (there was no other word for it) over to him, leaning over him with fluid grace and coiled power. “How much do you need tonight, James? Shall I break in our new items tonight with you?”

 

James stared up at him feeling slightly dizzy. “Anything, sir. Anything you want to give me. Your choice, sir.”

 

Michael grinned, showing all his teeth and James shuddered as a wave of arousal swept through him. “Oh, you like that?” Michael murmured silkily next to his ear. “Should I use my teeth on you? Mark you like I know you want to be marked. Show that you belong to me and only me?” James’ neck arched as he thought _My GOD, his **voice**_! “I don’t think I want you in pain tonight, James. We know you like it, but I want you to fall with what I choose and only with what I choose.” His free hand carded soothingly through James’ hair, slightly damp from the sweat already forming. “And if it isn’t enough – really isn’t enough, I want you to tell me James. Whatever it takes to make you feel secure. To feel grounded.”

 

James nodded weakly, whispering “now, sir, please I need …” Michael nodded and reached for the flower-patterned padlocked cuffs on the bed, securing James’ arms and locking them and placing the key on the bedside table to be used when they were done. James exhaled, testing the bonds slightly, feeling a rush of relief when they held firm. He focused on the security coming to him from being bound as he watched Michael undressing, all practical efficiency and unknowing showmanship tangled together.

 

And then Michael was focused on him, darkened eyes intent. Hands teasing, twisting, soothing, exploring, stretching. Skin against skin, warmth and sweat and reassuring weight pinning him down. Hickeys and lovebites appeared over his skin, nipples were licked and sucked. And James let himself fall. It was okay to fall, to feel the reactions of thinking _he_ was still out there, still waiting to trap him. It was okay to break apart because Michael was in charge of all the pieces and Michael would keep him safe and put him back together. He was Michael’s after all. He came once and hardened again, at least he thought he had. His thoughts were pretty fuzzy.

 

James came back to himself slightly when he was entered, because it wasn’t Michael pushing into him. Forcing his eyes open, he hazily watched as the white vibrator Michael had bought (the White Wabbit, Michael had told him, based off Alice in Wonderland) entered him inch by sleek inch and he moaned as the twin buds at the head pushed against his prostate, surrounding it. Then Michael flicked his thumb.

 

James’ hips snapped upwards desperately seeking something (escape? Friction?) as he tried to breathe into suddenly non-working lungs. He couldn’t quite seem to get any air, could only lie there whimpering, gasping helplessly, being a conduit as the vibrations pulsed against that certain place, flowed in waves through him. His arousal swirled through him, an omnipresent multi-coloured sensation, beckoning him seductively, the tides of submission coming in quickly. There was a small flash of panic, instinctive really from past years, but then – Michael was here and with an accepting sigh, James let the waters close in over his head as he sank down.

 

“James? Can you talk to me?”

 

James blinked slowly and languidly smiled, dreamy as he took in Michael’s caring face, concern and amused affection evident. Another few blinks and he realized his arms were free and they smelled like they’d taken a shower. They were covered by a blanket and Michael was holding him. He absently wondered how much time had passed. Didn’t matter. Michael was here….

 

“…michael…”

 

“Hey.” Michael kissed his forehead, and then resettled, pulling James into him more, one hand rubbing soothingly across his back while the other tenderly enfolded his head, ginger hair falling over his fingers trying to grip with the strands. Earlier in their relationship, Michael would have been terrified, angry, protective … Now, with everything they’d been through together, Michael knew that if James fell hard, he wouldn’t talk or really be coherent for a good while afterwards. James knew that it gave Michael a sense of amazement and constant pleasure that he could do that. That he was trusted enough for James to let go and fall _that_ far.

 

“You feeling more secured now?” Michael murmured gently, as James felt sleep tugging at his brain. Of course. Michael was his anchor. He nodded slowly, still barely whispering “Yes. Thank you, Sir. Yours.” He couldn’t stop the yawn or the breathed “m’tired…” that followed. He felt Michael’s lips curve into a fond smile against his temple. “You’re welcome. I agree – Mine. Now sleep. Rest. I’m here, James. I’ve got you.”

 

James’ last thought before he fell asleep was “Yes. You’ve got me. Always.”


End file.
